We
piled into a couple 4x4 taxis and headed down the long dirt road through banana
plantations to get to the main road. At about the midway point, we reached the
precarious twisted bridge, which we were all hesitant to cross. The driver
thought it would be a good idea for us to get out while he drove across, so we
jumped out and walked over the bridge before the taxi passed. Amazingly, the
bridge did not give out when he crossed and we all hopped back in and continued
on our journey. We finally arrived at the main road to catch the bus to Bri
Bri.
The
town of Bri Bri is the developed hub of the Bri Bri tribe and territory. It has
a few amenities including a grocery store, a motel, and a rather dilapidated
bathroom (which you needed to pay for, by the way). The group trudged down the
streets in the rain to the alternate bus stop for the more local bus. Picture
your average municipal bus lumbering through the busy streets of your favorite
city. Now, picture that very same bus, driving on unmaintained dirt roads that
you wouldn’t dare take your mother’s ‘Camry’ down. That is the exact bus we found ourselves crammed into,
trying to maintain balance. At every dip in the road, the bus would slowly
scrape along its rear end and we would all cross our fingers that it didn’t get
stuck and require our manpower. At one such happening, Leeann, cranking away on
her disposable camera, found it an opportune moment to throw herself over me to
take a picture of one of the hundreds of small trickling steams along the way.
But after what seemed like an eternity (probably 45 minutes), we had reached
the launch point for our next mode of transportation.
We
walked down a path through a large valley to come upon a river with three
slender looking riverboats afloat. Each was carved out of a single tree trunk
with a 20hp Yamaha mounted on back. After the drivers bailing the vessels, we
climbed aboard, about 5 in each, and headed down the Rio Yorkin for the ride of
a lifetime. With the motor in back and a ‘poler’ up front to push us through
the shallower sections, we slowly glided upstream through dense and remote
rainforest. The Rio Yorkin lies on the border of Costa Rica and Panama, and
snakes in and out of each country. Within minutes, a torrential downpour began
and the low, foggy clouds blanketed the peaks. It was an unforgettable ride. We
passed small cliffs spotted with dozens of sleeping bats, and heard screeching
Mealy parrots flying over the canopy. Trees leaned over the river, dangling
vines that would occasionally brush our jacket hoods. Once in a while, a
kingfisher would swoop right past the boat and make a dive for the water. It
was an experience I had wanted the whole trip and one that I will remember for
a lifetime.
After
about an hour, the boats slid up to a steep, grassy slope where we scurried
ashore to find ourselves at the remote river village of Yorkin. After a day of
what seemed like travelling half the world, I plopped down into the soggy grass
and stared into the distance. Oh, the miles we had covered. When our
friend/guide Alex arrived, I couldn’t help but ask him how far Gandoca was from
there. He pointed to a peak a few miles away and said, “Oh, Gandoca is just
over that mountain.”
-Zach
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